Alice: Corrupted Sanity
by Digital-Safu
Summary: The mind is a fragile thing. Had he ever met her? Had he ever entered this land of hers? Wonders? No. There is only chaos.  -  A sequel to "Alice - Madness Returns"
1. Dark Individual

_The mind is a fragile thing. The images it produces from the memories stored deep within it can be easily corrupted or rearranged to provide "holes" that are unexplainable. "Holes" within your logic, your ways of thinking, the conclusions you draw, the things you remember. All these can easily be changed through simple things. Through very simple actions._

_For, as you see, memories change and deteriorate on their own, if enough time is given without the process of recalling their images. The "image" in this example being any kind of event, smell, taste or feeling your memories stands for. _

_The process of the deterioration moves on its own. But it can quickly be accelerated by the most basic things. One of the simplest methods is to force someone to recall one of their memories, by reminding them of play they saw many years ago, while another one had been brought to their attention in a subtle enough manner, merely a week ago._

_Things like this, small manipulations of the human mind, could easily grow into a potential psychological weapon. A small trigger is all that is needed to completely destroy the psyche from the inside. One word is enough to rearrange the memories of the past and chance the attitude of the present. Images of the mind will be implanted and infected._

_Do it well enough, and the mind shall shatter. _

_A new world shall be created._

The heavy rain that had been knocking on the windows of the old, wooden house did not intend to let off for even a single moment, making the dark and moody atmosphere on the inside only grow. One lone individual, wrapped in dirty clothes and a ripped apart blanket, was cowering in the darkest corner of the entrance hall of this old house.

The only light source in this ever blinding darkness was the flickering fire on top of a candle, which had been placed on a small table next to the broken down staircase next to the corner the person was in.

The shine of the fire barely reached the cowering being, and every time a slight breeze actually enabled the light to touch its legs, which were looking out of the blanket, it quickly rolled over to avoid any contact with the heating element.

Every so often the young person in the corner decided to open its bright blue eyes, which cut through the darkness like the strong fire of a well-lit lantern, capable of overlooking the entire hall, in case any other being decided to announce its presence.

Nothing like that happened luckily and the being was able to slowly drift into the sleep it had deserved after what it had lived through.

But yet, every time the young individual closed its eyes, horrible images flashed in front of it.

A bloody war. Thousands of living creatures, running at one another, weapons striking, hitting, breaking, penetrating, ripping, shredding and killing.

A woman, eyes as cold as the darkest winter night.

A man, eyes as burning as the hottest summer sun.

A girl, fighting a dragon who is towering over her. A blade, her hands holding onto it as best as she can.

Fire and Flames burning the surroundings to ground. Screams ringing within his skull, breaking it apart from the inside. Pain crawling throughout his entire body, slowly infected every part of his very being.

A heart, broken in two, as the world collapses around him.

A grin, accompanied by a riddle.

Silence.


	2. A letter in the Night

_I have seen quite a lot in my time as a psychiatrist, wandering the streets of London . But this one case in particular, I am unable to forget. It is one of these mysteries of life, which you try to solve, but never manage to. _

_I was asked to the house of my dear friend Arthur, who I had met many years ago in the old clinic I once worked at, to look after his beloved wife. He had been called away by family to assist them on a rather strange hunting trip that I shall not go into too much detail about. _

_His wife wasn't in the best condition, as a rather severe illness had taken hold of her, and he wanted to ensure that she was in good hands. I felt rather flattered about the fact that he had chosen me as the right choice for this, but looking back at it now, I wish he had picked someone else._

_Once I had arrived at their home, still unaware of why I was chosen to look over his family, I felt a cold shiver running down my spine. The second that I stepped out of my carriage, heavy rain falling down, soaking through my clothing, I had this unshakable feeling that I was watched. _

_I laughed it off, pretending it to be a trick my old mind was playing on me. But who am I trying to fool? I should've known better._

_I spent about a week, visiting every morning and two evenings, making sure that Lorina had everything she needed, in order to take care of herself and the children. I rarely ever spoke to Elizabeth and I never even saw so much as a glimpse of poor Alice. That girl… I wish I could have helped her._

_What happened on that night, I cannot say. I left the house as the night drew closer, knowing Arthur would soon return, before the sun would rise once more. I did not want to bother the family that I was so foreign to any longer. But I do know now, I should have investigated the feeling that had gripped me. I should have not just believed my own lies. _

_I should've known better. They had paid the price. _

_Please, my friend. Deliver this message for me. Let them know, what I do not dare to question._

_Someone has killed them. Someone is to blame. And I want this person to be found._

_Your friend and teacher, Lawrence._

The boy slowly put the letter back on the small, wooden table in front of him. He let the backpack he was carrying slide off of his shoulder and fall onto the ground. He put his hand on his chin, gently running his fingers over the few stubble that he still had on him. A quick glance over his shoulder later, he quickly moved to the bed made out of old sheets, which he had placed in the corner of his room and sat down on it.

The boy ran his hand through his shoulder long hair, dark brown hair and sighed heavily as he granted the words he had just read entrance to his mind. He bit his lower lip as he reread the letter inside of his head multiple times, making sure he had understood the message right.

The Liddell have been a subject of great discussion ever since the fire which had destroyed not only their house, but also the entire family itself, except for one.

The young man put his head in his neck and stared at the ceiling for a while, collecting his thoughts on the event and who would do something so down right diabolic. Killing an entire family.

He sighed once more and turned his face towards a small window in the wall next to his bed, which gave him a view out onto the small street behind Owen's old store. He went there every once in a while to help himself to one or two piece of bread and a bottle of water. That's all he really needed.

Of course Lawrence would have punished him for committing something that he had always considered a crime, but now that his teacher hadn't return from his journey in such a long time, he had to find a different way to support his never ending desire to live.

The boy looked back onto the table, fixing his eyes on the letter that Lawrence had sent him and put up a weak smile.

"At least he is still thinking of me." He quietly spoke.

"_Do NOT disturb their slumber Samuel!" _

"_Their eyes! They have no eyes!"_

A knock on his door ripped the boy out of his slumber that very same night. His senses heightened, as they always do in moments that put him in great discomfort. He blinked a few times to get his eyes working, before turning his head to the side so that he could keep the entrance to his small room under watch.

Another heavy slam against the door made him jump and he slowly and quietly got up. Trying to avoid making any noise as long as he possibly could, he made his way through the room to his closet in pitch black darkness. There, the boy opened the small door and reached out for an even smaller box inside. Within it he found what he was looking for.

Quickly he wrapped his hand around it, as another bang on the door made him realize that someone was trying to break in, rather than get him to open on his own accord. In one swift motion he turned around, rolled over to the other side of the room and took three quick steps toward the door. All in complete silence.

Just as he had been taught.

With another loud bang, the door broke into many pieces, some of the flying through the air, others just landing on the ground and two men came in.

One was carrying a large club, a thing he clearly didn't bring to fix the boy's sink, with a small knife hanging on a belt which was loosely wrapped around his waist.

The second one was wearing a big, fur-coat. And he was carrying a lantern.

That thing was dangerous, enabling them to spot the boy if he wasn't fast enough.

The second both men had entered and before either was able to notice him, he slipped past them, out of the now broken door and out onto the small stone bridge, connecting his room to a larger tower of Lawrence castle.

As the boy was halfway across the bridge, he heard one of the men behind him yell something. They had seen him.

Quickly he turned to his left, hopped backwards, and reached out with his arms as soon as he felt nothing but air under his feet. Luckily enough he was able to get a hold of the slippery side of the bridge. The rain just did not appreciate his existence.

Knowing that he didn't have long before the two intruders would have reached him, he shut his eyes tight and let go. For a mere second, he was frightened.

The second his foot hit the ground though, he immediately opened his eyes once more and ran as fast as his feet would carry him into the streets of London, disappearing into the night, long before either of his two visitors could make their way out of the castle.


End file.
